


Tissue Sample

by sithjawa



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Implied Relationships, Mad Science, Pyro's Gender is Pyro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithjawa/pseuds/sithjawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after years of heavy use in the field and on the operating table, Medic's invention still holds a few surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tissue Sample

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Halloween 2012. I normally don't post fic, but this idea fell under the category of "too terrible not to share." I'm so sorry, folks.
> 
> "Graphic Depictions of Violence" isn't an entirely accurate warning, but "Graphic Depictions of Medicine" wasn't an option.

Pyro made a sharp sound as Medic prodded the asbestos-suited arm. "Ze bone is broken," the doctor proclaimed, "but zis is a simple procedure. You will be back in action within five minutes." Fixing his patient's arm in position with a piece of wood and a few improvised straps, he aimed the medigun and fired.

Pyro, bathed in the red light, sighed in relief. Medic counted the seconds required for the bone to knit. "Twelve... Thirteen... Fourteen... _Hä?_ " Pyro let out a strangled noise and listed abruptly sideways.

"Spy!" Before Pyro's body hit the ground, Medic grabbed the bonesaw from the surgery tray and pressed his back to the wall. He waited, glancing around nervously, for several seconds. When no further attack came, he returned to Pyro's side, fumbling to examine the body one-handed while still clutching the saw.

Pyro was not dead. Although the mercenary had stopped breathing, Medic detected a faint, rapid pulse. He searched for a backstab wound, but found no external injuries at all. No sign of a spy attack. Why, then, had Pyro's lungs ceased working? Medic's eyes glinted and he began to smile. Here was a mystery worth investigating.

Medic trained the healing gun on Pyro again, waiting until the heartbeat steadied. He turned the beam to the lowest setting - enough to stabilize the patient, but not enough to inconvenience the surgeon. Then he took a deep, anticipatory breath. In a single movement, he sliced suit and chest open to the bone. Working as carefully as his racing heart allowed, Medic began to autopsy his living subject.

He went for the lungs first, searching for the cause of the death his medigun held at bay. The lungs were swollen, oddly solid to the touch. Discarding the bonesaw for a smaller scalpel, Medic made his incision.

" _Mein Gott!_ " Medic jumped back as pale flesh swelled upward through the opening. He recovered quickly and began carving away at the expanding tumor, heedless of the large chunks of Pyro's lungs that came away under his blade. If even a tiny fragment of healthy tissue remained, the medigun would restore the rest. If not - Scout could donate one of his lungs to the cause. It would grow back.

Medic had always been happiest when elbow-deep in someone else's vital organs. During the bloody eternity that followed, he sang and laughed as he wrestled—sometimes literally—with the ballooning mass of tissue. All good things must end, however, and he finally stood back, breathing heavily, and watched intently as Pyro's chest cavity glistened and leaked.

When no new growth appeared, Medic slowly dialed up the power on the medigun, watching the lungs begin to regrow. They looked healthy enough, tender and pink and free of scarring. The new lungs expanded. The world stopped.

They contracted again. Medic exhaled in unison, surprised to discover that he had been holding his breath. Then he headed for the sink, the hole in Pyro's chest closing behind him under the medigun's steady glow.

 

Heavy set down his tankard and reached for another slice of roast. "Is good, doktor!" He beamed at Medic as though Medic had prepared the feast just for him. Medic swept his favorite teammate a bow, and courteously refilled Soldier's beer.

"This ham deserves a medal, Doc!" Soldier agreed. "It is sweet. It is tender. It has a delicate smoky flavor. You will give me a copy of the recipe!"

Medic only smiled and began clearing the plates away. He thought with anticipatory pleasure on tomorrow morning's combat, when he would at last be able to determine whether ingesting the cooked meat led to an adverse reaction to medigun exposure.

He could be patient, however. For the moment, he had enough to keep him busy. He had to make sure that the tissue samples remained stable in their suspended animation. He had to plan his next round of experiments. He had to make Heavy a sandwich for tomorrow's lunch.


End file.
